


Risky Driving

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan takes Sam out for a drink to relax. They both end up pretty tense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risky Driving

**Author's Note:**

> I have received a lot of mixed reactions to this (mainly on tumblr), and I feel like I need to stress some things based on the two kinds of notes, asks, and comments I've been getting. 
> 
> I am aware a lot of people are bothered by this pairing, and I sympathize because it's not my cup of tea most times either. But I will write anything if I like the idea, even if it's something I may not prefer very much myself. This idea happened to sit well with me. I'm sorry if you are unhappy with my pairing choice for this fic, but I have 40 other stories for you if this one doesn't tickle your fancy (or whatever you prefer tickled), and the Tron fandom has no shortage of extremely talented writers ready to fulfill your every desire.
> 
> The other complaints I get seem to indicate that people would prefer this relationship depicted with daddykink. Let me make this very clear: I will **never** write daddykink. There is no extended explanation for that.
> 
> If you're just here for the smut, welcome, and thanks for reading. :)

“Yeah? Go fuck yourself,” Sam sneered, flipping Dillinger an additional finger for good measure. He was sure he heard a muttered pejorative follow his own extremely sophisticated comeback. “What’d you say? Come say that to my face!” He started to charge after the little twerp, already on his toes and ready for a confrontation, but a hand on his back stopped him.  
  
“Sam. _Sam_. Stop, please.”  
  
He turned to find Alan coming out of the elevator beside him. His patient tone was belied by the tense frown tugging at his features. “Don’t do this here.”  
  
“Alan,” Sam nodded. “Hey.”  
  
Alan stepped aside to let someone hurry into the elevator—possibly escaping the brewing storm hanging over Sam’s head. Sam glared at her just because. He didn’t need a reason. “I gotta go find Dillinger,” he muttered, ducking his shoulder to pull away from Alan’s hand. Fingers closed around the collar of his jacket and stopped him.  
  
“Let me buy you a drink,” Alan offered. He lifted the hand holding his briefcase and glanced at his watch. “I’m off in twenty, it won’t kill them if I leave a little early today.”  
  
“You shouldn’t be answering to the assholes in upper management anyway.”  
  
“And you shouldn’t be wasting your time on someone who enjoys getting a rise out of you, but… here we are.” Alan made a gesture toward the stairwell. “After you.”  
  
“We can take the elevator,” Sam said.  
  
Alan chuckled and slid the hand on Sam’s collar down around his shoulder. “I think you could benefit from the walk. Give you some time to cool down before we get in the car.”  
  
“Great.”  
  
_____________  
  
  
Alan ordered himself a scotch and looked over at Sam to prompt him for his drink. “Uh, beer,” Sam said quietly. When the server left he put his arms up on the table and leaned forward to gain a little more privacy. “Sorry about earlier.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Alan shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. “I know the kind of crap Ed likes to pull, mostly just to see if he can. Don’t think I haven’t wanted to give him a good smack a few times myself. But you know how it’ll end.”  
  
“Yeah, well, they know me pretty well down at the lockup,” Sam said. He leaned back to let the server place his drink on the table, then shifted a little more to drape one arm over the back of his chair.  
  
“I was thinking lawyers,” Alan replied. “But there is that, too.”  
  
Sam nodded and took a swig of his beer. “I’m just tired of his shit. Every damn time. I’m starting to think I shouldn’t even bother coming down there, but it’s always something with them. I think they’re trying to annoy me into giving up my shares.”  
  
“They might be,” Alan chuckled. He waved off an angry glare from Sam.  
  
They drank and chatted, slipping slowly from serious matters to more meaningless topics as an hour turned into two. Things like how long Sam thought it would take to finish restoring the half-rusted pile of bike sitting in the middle of his garage-turned-apartment. At some point Sam realized he was hitting tipsy, and he cut himself off; Alan was still nursing a replacement drink with no sign of slowing down. “One of us needs to drive,” Sam slurred slightly. He was instantly annoyed with himself for losing track of his own tolerance. “And I hate your car.”  
  
“What’s wrong with my car?”  
  
“It’s… I mean it’s a Crown Vic,” Sam laughed. Possibly more than was appropriate. “I half expect you to be an undercover cop every time I see you pull into the parking lot. You don’t have cuffs in the glove compartment, do you?” He snickered stupidly and rubbed the back of his wrist against his forehead.  
  
Alan was smiling, and he looked much more composed than the multiple drinks he had put away would suggest. “No, I keep those at home,” he said. When Sam stopped laughing he chuckled. “Come on, I’m kidding. You’re right, though, we should get out of here.”  
  
Sam watched him get up. “Can you drive?”  
  
“I’m fine. You go wait for me by the car, I’ll pay.”  
  
Sam got up and made his way to the door, doing a quick blink check to make sure he was fully focused. The buzz would pass, he had enough experience sitting around drinking to know that much; it was Alan who had him worried. While he didn’t relish the idea of sitting around waiting for one of them to sober up enough to drive, he also didn’t find it appealing to end up wrapped around jersey wall on some onramp. He leaned against the passenger door and waited for Alan to come out of the bar. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.  
  
“Would you stop asking? I’m fine. Get in.” Alan reached out with the keypad to unlock the car. “Your own death-defying driving habits have you paranoid.”  
  
“Maybe.” Sam pulled open the door and ducked into the passenger side. Alan got in a moment later, just as the first few drops of rain started to spatter across the windshield. “Good timing.”  
  
Alan leaned over the steering wheel and looked up at the roiling gray clouds above. “Mm,” he hummed. “Seatbelt.”  
  
“Now who’s paranoid.”  
  
True to his word, Alan drove just as slow and steady as always. Sam resisted the temptation to insist he was drunk anyway, just to get himself in the driver’s seat and go a little faster than two miles over the speed limit. “It’s city streets,” Alan reminded him. “There are lights every tenth of a mile, and you want me to speed.”  
  
“I wanna get home before my dog starves to death, yeah,” Sam said. He laughed at his own joke and settled back into the seat. “I should check this just in case,” he added, as he reached forward to open the glove compartment. Part of him thought it would be hilarious to actually find handcuffs in Alan’s car. Another part of him thought it would be horrifying. A third was actually hoping the joke about keeping them at home hadn’t been a joke at all.  
  
Sam swept his tongue across his lower lip and cleared his throat. That was definitely the alcohol guiding his thoughts; he was a horny drunk, he knew that. Usually he wasn’t out drinking with Alan, though. His gaze slid to Alan’s side of the car, and he found himself transfixed by the pull and glide of fabric across his thigh as he switched from the gas to the break and brought the car to a gentle stop.  
  
“Red light.”  
  
Sam looked up to find himself being watched. “I’m not going any faster,” Alan said.  
  
Sam shook his head and turned back to his side of the car. He rubbed his now-sweaty palms over his jeans and let out a breath he had unknowingly held back at some point. “Hey, Alan,” he said slowly, venturing carefully into what he knew was unsteady, potentially dangerous territory.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Actually,” Sam paused, “never mind.”  
  
“Okay,” Alan said with a nod. He took off from the light, only to make it barely a block and a half before traffic stopped him again. “Shouldn’t be this much traffic this late in the day,” he muttered to himself.  
  
Sam felt like he had something wound up in the middle of his chest, urging him to jump. He wanted to continue blaming the alcohol, but he knew that was hardly a factor anymore. Not enough to provide a scapegoat if something went wrong. As they rolled to a stop he reached out with his left hand, over the center console, and put his palm flat on the top of Alan’s thigh. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the dashboard, unwilling to see the physical reaction to his touch, even though he could hear Alan’s breath catch in his throat. When a good ten seconds passed with no explosive demand for an explanation, he got bold; his fingers twitched and moved over just a bit, close enough to Alan’s groin to feel the crease of the fabric ghost across the tops of his fingers.  
  
Alan said nothing. Sam risked a quick glance to the left to find Alan’s hands were locked in a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. He turned his head down to watch his own hand as it slipped down between the warm fold of fabric and back up again. Then he moved up and over, finding his way to the catch of Alan’s belt. Strong fingers suddenly closed around his wrist, and he jerked his head up to find Alan looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Stop,” he said. He pushed Sam’s hand away and turned back to the road, just in time for the car behind them to honk twice, prompting them to move.  
  
The car rolled back into the stream of traffic, and Sam turned to look out his own window. He could feel his face flushed hot, probably red as the damn stoplight, and his heart was pounding in his chest. It was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have even tried. A dozen different apologies ran through his head, but he knew none of them would be enough to make up for what he’d done. When they reached another red light he opened his mouth to blurt out whatever he could say before Alan stopped him, only to have his apology stepped on by a hurried “Go ahead,” from Alan. Sam snapped his mouth shut and turned: Alan was breathing hard and tugging at the clasp of his belt. He looked at Sam, and then his eyes moved down, to Sam’s hand. “We’re stopped again,” he prompted quietly.  
  
Sam let the reality of the moment sink in before he reached over, carefully, and returned to stroking the inside of Alan’s thigh. His efforts were greeted with a low, throaty groan from Alan that had Sam feeling like he might explode. As Alan slipped the end of the belt from its catch, Sam’s hand traveled across the hard length bound below the fabric of his pants. Alan’s foot twitched on the brake and the car lurched forward a bit, prompting a nervous laugh from Sam and an apologetic glance from Alan. Another honk behind them jerked both men back to the moment as Sam nearly threw himself into his own seat, and Alan quickly returned his hands to the steering wheel like nothing had ever happened. Neither spoke. Sam watched the lights as they drove, hoping for another red. Once they left the city he wouldn’t have a chance to make another move—not until Alan dropped him off. There was a chance one or both of them would talk themselves out of letting something happen by that point  
  
When they stopped again Sam didn’t wait for an invitation. He turned himself sideways in the seat and reached for the button and fly on Alan’s pants, pulling them apart and shoving his hand down over a pair of boxers he was more than a little shocked to find. He looked up, and Alan gave him an embarrassed smile before leaning down to catch him in a kiss. Sam pulled his hand back and slipped it under the soft fabric of the boxers, where his fingers finally closed around a hot, hard shaft. Alan’s hand tightened on the back of Sam’s neck, and he grunted quietly into the kiss as Sam started stroking him. When Alan pulled away a moment later Sam tried to follow, but instead he was guided down by the hand on his neck, pulled gently until his face was hovering just above Alan’s lap. He licked his lips and let himself be urged farther, stopping when his lips touched the head of Alan’s cock. He opened his mouth to give the tip a tentative lick when one more ear-splitting honk shattered the moment. Sam tried to lift his head up, but Alan held him in place. The strong thigh beneath his hand tensed and moved to the side, and then the car was moving; Sam felt Alan switch lanes, turn, and pull over. Massaging fingers on the back of his neck prompted him to continue.  
  
One lick turned into two, and then Sam swallowed Alan down a few inches. Soft flesh slipped easily over his tongue, and he hollowed his cheeks to apply the pressure he knew would feel _fantastic_. Just as he expected, Alan drew in a breath and let it out as a sharp hiss through his teeth. With that encouraging sound driving him, Sam took a little more, sliding back up to wet his lips with his own saliva before plunging down again, enough to fill his mouth up to the edge of his throat. Alan’s fingers rubbed the side of his neck as Sam lifted back up and bobbed his head briefly. He could hear soft _ah_ sounds escape Alan every time he circled his tongue around the ridge of Alan’s head, and a full-on moan when he flicked the tip before swallowing down again.  
  
Alan’s hips twitched and he slid his hand up to grasp a handful of Sam’s hair. “Sam,” he breathed, “we should stop.”  
  
That seemed like the opposite of what Sam thought they should do. He did his best to deepthroat before pulling up and off with an obscenely slick sound that made his own dick throb uncomfortably. “Why?” he asked after a quick breath.  
  
Alan reached out to wipe his thumb over Sam’s lips before shaking his head. “You’ve been drinking.”  
  
“Trust me,” Sam said, “I’m not drunk.”  
  
“Then why would—”  
  
“You are _really_ overthinking this,” Sam said with a heaping dose of sarcasm. He waited a beat and glanced at the back seat before adding, “Is there room in here for us to fuck?”  
  
Alan worked his mouth a few times before giving up and just frowning. With the hand on Sam’s head he shoved him back down to resume sucking and licking, before putting the car in gear and pulling out of the side street where they had parked. Sam dragged his tongue in a lazy zigzag before pulling off the tip again. “Can you drive while I give you head?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “Feels like you’re going kinda fast.”  
  
“Shut up, and don’t ever complain about my driving again after this,” Alan replied bitterly. He let go of Sam’s head and put both hands on the wheel. Sam snickered before diving back down, mouthing his way along the underside of Alan’s shaft while his fingers traced the outline of his balls through the dark gray suit. Alan gasped and jerked the wheel. “Don’t do that unless you want to end up going through a wall.”  
  
Content to believe the warning, Sam instead wrapped his fingers around the base of Alan’s cock and stroked a few times before sucking the head back in between his lips. He tasted the bead of salty precome and moaned, earning another moment of unsafe driving as Alan cursed and pulled the car back under control.  
  
They made it to the parkway alive, with Sam trying his best not to be _too_ good at what he was doing. He could only imagine cops surveying the wreckage after an orgasm caused a ten-car pileup, and that wasn’t the way he planned to go out. Alan had given up on holding back; he lifted and rolled his hips as much as careful driving would allow, and his occasional gasps and grunts had slowly evolved into all-out, lustful groans every time Sam lips slid up or down on his cock. Finally they made it to the waterfront, and Alan whipped the car into the open area in front of the garage, coming to a stop that almost slammed Sam into the steering wheel.  
  
“Don’t stop,” he said as Sam started to pull away. His voice was rough and deep, and the sound of it made Sam wish he could press his lips to Alan’s throat and feel the rumble every time he spoke. “Keep going. Just like that.” Alan leaned back against the headrest and rested one hand on the back of Sam’s neck. His other hand was between his legs, thumb rubbing the side of his balls as Sam sucked him off.  
  
A credit to his self control on the road, it was only a few short moments before Alan came, filling Sam’s mouth and making him brace himself against the seat to swallow. He bucked his hips and grunted as Sam sucked the tip before pulling away, and then he was spent; his hand fell uselessly on top of the center console as Sam sat up and swallowed back the last of it.  
  
Sam took a deep breath and sat back in his seat. He hit the button to undo his seatbelt and looked around the yard. No one was there, of course, but he felt more exposed than he had when he was going down on Alan in the middle of the evening gridlock. “Wanna go inside?” he asked.  
  
Alan nodded. “I need a drink.”  
  
Sam watched him fumble around for the door handle and smiled. “How about just water this time?”


End file.
